


Power Known Not: Finality

by Magi_Silverwolf



Series: Power Known Not [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Paganism, Post-Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: Sometimes the aftermath is harder to deal with than the war.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.  
> Warning: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers.  
> Author’s Note(s): This portion was written so that the characters could let me go. Writing is sometimes like that--half godhood and half possession. It never truly fit with the story being told by Power Known Not, despite belonging to those characters coming out of those events.

-= LP =-

Power Known Not

Finality

-= LP =-

“The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.” – Audrey Hepburn

-= LP =-

 

It was over.

 

They had won.

 

Those words resounded in his head. Their measures had been successful. There would be no more need to hide away from the world. For the first time in Harry’s life, he was truly free. There were so many things that he had pushed off or kept himself from doing, all with the vague hope that there would be an after to the war. Now he didn’t need to wait. There was no Dark Lord trying to kill him, no headmaster arranging his life like he was a chess piece.

 

It was over. They had won.

 

Grimmauld Place had never seemed so empty.

 

There were celebrations going on in every corner of Britannia. Obliviators were out in full force attempting to keep their world from being discovered, but aside from pub keepers, they were the only magical humans working. Voldemort was gone and this time there was no chance of him returning. His regime had been taken care of in one fell swoop. All that remained now was restructuring the government to adjust for the loss of key personnel in the short term.

 

The Second Blood War was over. The Resistance had won.

 

The silence seemed to echo with remembered laughter.

 

What was he going to do now? He may have pushed off things for this event, but he had never truly believed that he would live to see its aftermath. There had been so many close calls. His death had just seemed inevitable. If he were honest—and he was alone, so why not be honest?—that was the real reason that he had broken up with Ginny last year. It would have been better if there wasn’t a lot of people to mourn _him,_ not the Boy-Who-Lived, but _Harry_. He would have left everyone behind and performed the task that Dumbledore had left him, and then he would have died quietly.

 

Wasn’t that how the story ended? The noble hero sacrificed himself for the Greater Good. He destroyed the Great Dark Lord and died due to his injuries from the arduous battle. Perhaps it would have been better if that was how his story ended. It seemed more fitting than moping in a library while watching firework explosions filling the sky. Kreacher wisely left him to it.

 

“Your father never brooded,” Remus announced some hour after midnight. Not that the hour mattered to whoever was responsible for the fireworks that had drowned out the stars steadily since dusk. Harry spared the last Marauder a nod before turning back to the display. “He didn’t—there just was not enough action in it for him. Sirius, though, now he brooded. Every Black I ever met had the act down to a fine art. Of course, every Black I ever met was just so much _more_ than your average person. They had bred themselves to be so, as your grandmother was fond of reminding your father. ‘Breeding always shows,’ she would say.”

 

“Aunt Marge would say the same, but it was usually as an insult to my parents.”

 

“She may have meant it that way, but it’s really a homage, Harry.” Remus placed one hand on Harry’s shoulder. It took a great deal of effort, but the werewolf managed to turn the teen around to face him. Their eyes met for a brief moment before Harry dropped his gaze. As he would do an errant child, Remus grasped his chin and forced Harry to meet his eyes. “I’m going to say something that I should have told you the moment I met you: your parents would be proud of you. You lack nothing. Don’t waste your life brooding in an empty house.”

 

“I’m not brooding,” Harry protested. Remus raised an eyebrow at him in silent challenge. Harry sighed and ripped himself free from the other man’s grasp. He stalked away from the closest thing he had left to a decent family member. “I’m not,” he repeated, speaking more to the mantel than to Remus. He braced himself against cool marble, staring into the darkness of the unlit fireplace. “It’s just that…”

 

“Just what?”

 

“It just hurts,” Hermione interrupted softly. Harry immediately straightened as he felt the tug in his magic as it recognized hers. Her burnished gold eyes held the same ache as his heart did. The specter of Ron stood between them, invisible but recognized just the same. It was the same with Sirius and Harry’s parents. “They should be here, but they aren’t…and yet…”

 

“They are,” Harry agreed. Remus nodded, his own experiences allowing him to follow the conversation. Better or worse, they had all survived a war that had claimed a dear friend who had been family. Harry didn’t see Remus’ nod. He found something in Hermione’s eyes that captivated him.

 

Harry was filled to the brim with everything that he had ever wanted to say but had been too afraid to mention. There were a thousand acknowledgements, gratitude for thousands of time she had encouraged him, believed in him. It was there. She had been so important for so long. Were there even words to ask her to stay, to fill the emptiness with her vibrant presence?

 

 _‘I know,’_ her magic whispered. Hermione crossed to him. Her hands cupped his face like he was a precious jewel. With a dawning clarity, it occurred to him that to her, he was. He didn’t have escape to the other side of magic to find someone who thought of him as a treasure. There was one right in front of him. He marveled at the idea. His eyes soaked her up like a sponge does water. Through his awe, he felt the steady pulse chanting. _‘I know. I know. I know.’_

“Well, I know when I’m not wanted,” Remus declared. He might as well be declaring that he was the Queen Mum herself for all it mattered to Hermione and Harry. “I wonder what Dora is up to at this hour. I’ll just be off then.”

 

“I will,” Hermione whispered in answer to his silent query, “for as long as magic lasts.”

 

“And beyond,” Harry amended. She smiled at him.

 

“And beyond,” she agreed. He pulled her close, tucking their arms between them. Their fingers were a tangle, but their grips were as sure as the recognition humming in their souls.

 

Their journey wasn’t ending.

 

It was only beginning.


End file.
